Ailing Arachnid
by Aaronna
Summary: Peter Parker had always been a sickly kid who didn't do well in the cold. Now, with his spider powers, he still had a hard time with it. So if he wasn't as active during the winter, it wasn't really his fault. But when the Sinister Six attacked during the latest winter storm, he couldn't just stay home.


Before being bit and becoming Spider-Man, Peter Parker couldn't remember ever being "healthy". He had been asthmatic, had an arrhythmic heart, was prone to migraines and headaches, and his immune system was so weak that he would end up getting any illness that swept through the school, sometimes even twice if it had time to mutate. So even on his healthiest days he had been worse off than most of the other sick kids.

After the bite, things got worse for a few days and then things were better than he had ever had them. His asthma seemed to ease up and then disappear all together. The changes to his body seemed to have fixed his heart, though now it beat at a much faster rate. His headaches were less intense, except when his senses overloaded, and he only got migraines when his Spider-sense had been going non-stop for over a day. And the best part was that since getting really sick from the spider bite, he hadn't been sick in the 10 years since then. It was always worse during the winter though. Peter, with his numerous health issues as a kid, hated the cold and like his spider counterpart, it really wasn't a good idea for him to spend long periods of time outside during a New York winter.

Luckily for him, his past issues were well known, so if he called in sick to work or came to class with a doctor's note after missing a week of class, everyone took it at face value and made sure not to push him too hard for a few days. This was great for a super villain fighting vigilante with an amazing healing factor. He could stay home and heal from the worst of his injuries and then go to class and work with only the less notable injuries as they finished healing. The only person who didn't go easy on him was his boss and alter ego hating critic, J. Jonah Jameson. The man seemed to expect more out of Peter than anyone else had ever dared to. Peter liked the challenge, but it did make having a double life harder.

This was never more true than the winter after MJ died. Well Clone MJ, but she had been real to him. Everyone knew that Peter hadn't taken his wife's death well and had thrown himself into his work and classes. He had been working on his MS in Biological Engineering and his BA in Media Journalism part time before her death, but afterwards he signed up for the highest number of classes the university would let him take. On top of that, Peter went from being a fulltime photographer at the Bugle to also writing in the Future and Technology section of the paper and updating and maintaining the Daily Bugle's website, making sure that all of the articles published in the printed version also made it to the online version.

Everyone thought the poor man would take his winter break from classes to rest and spend time with his and his late wife's aunts. Instead, he sent the two of them on a cruise with the tiny bonus JJ gave all of his employees and threw himself harder into his work. What most people didn't know was that the man had sent the women off to keep them safe from the rising crime in the city.

Usually, crime slowed during the winter and was mostly during the day. But for some unknown reason, the crime was at an all time high and a large fraction of it was at night. This wouldn't have been a big deal if it wasn't also during one of the worst blizzards most New Yorkers had ever experienced. And when you are a cold abhorring superhero, this is especially horrible.

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"PARKER!" Betty Brant winced at the tone Mr. Jameson was using towards Pete.

"Yes Sir?" She had to admire how far the man had come since he started working for the Bugle years ago. He used to cower and flinch when the Boss called for him.

"Where Is The Stark Industry Article I Asked For Two Hours Ago?!" Betty stiffened. Pete had been working on that piece for days, analyzing all the technical jargon and simplifying it so that the average reader could understand what was so special about the new product SI was releasing for the Christmas season.

"I emailed it to you along with the Oscorp Sellout piece before lunch. Both have been edited by the editors and can be posted online as soon as you give them the all clear." Betty binked. He had finished both already? How had he managed that? Hammer Technologies had just announced that they had bought the controlling shares of Oscorp early that morning.

"Do You See Any New Emails On This Screen Parker?!" Betty couldn't help but pity Pete.

"Have you tried refreshing the screen?" Betty listened carefully for her Boss's response when Peter spoke again.

"See there it is. Jim down in IT didn't update your server to refresh automatically every 5 minutes like the other computers on this floor yesterday. You were likely busy and he would get to it when you left for lunch today, but you stayed in and ate in your office. Here you go. Updated and ready to use. I'll let you look over these messages and let Jim know your computer has been updated so he can start on updating the archive computers." How was he so good at brushing off the anger thrown at him and get what needed done without any fuss? The kid's amazing.

"You do that. And I need the New Year's predictions article and the Stark Energy analysis on my desk first thing Monday morning. Now get out of here. Some of us have work to do." Betty could have sworn she had heard a touch of pride in the tightwad's voice aimed at Pete.

"Yes sir." Betty didn't even need to turn around to know that Pete had just given the former lieutenant a salute before hurrying out of the office. She saw a small smile on his face, the first one she had seen since a few days before Mary Jane had been killed by Hydroman, as he marched military style to the elevator where he did a standing march until the door opened. She heard a muffled chuckle from Mr. Jameson as Pete did a bout face and stood at parade rest as the elevator doors shut. Betty couldn't help but think the two of them were good influences on each other. They had too much in common not to connect somewhat.

Both had lost their wives to masked maniacs, they were both hard workers that don't let personal issues stop them from doing their job, and they both made a name for themselves when they started out with nothing. Pete's school was being paid for by several technology companies that want him after he finished up his PhD, but they were going to let him choose which of them to work for afterwards, kind of like he was settling a dispute about which was the better company. Betty knew the SI, Hammer Tech, Oscorp, and Reed Richards were the main contenders, with a number of smaller labs and companies pitching in to put their names in the hat, so to speak.

Smiling, Betty glanced at Robbie Robertson, who was watching Pete fondly, before returning to work. Knowing Mr. Jameson, he wouldn't let the good mood Pete had put him in effect his actions towards the rest of his employees. No, just Pete.

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Peter had planned on staying in during the weekend and write his assignments for the Bugle and enjoy the snowstorm from comforts of his apartment. But no sooner did he finish writing the "Clean Energy For Dummies" explanation of SI's plan for powering the low income housing communities in the city than Doctor Octopus, Electro, Mysterio, Rhino, Scorpion, and Hobgoblin started tearing up the city. There hadn't been a Sinister Six team up in almost a year, so Spidey was a little surprised to see news footage of the six of them using the blizzard as cover as they looted a few Banks and research labs on local news.

Groaning at the thought of fighting them in this weather, Peter donned a pair of skin tight thermals before putting on his suit. He wished he could put on thicker gloves and boots, but that would limit his climbing and hinder his grip, so he slid on his mask with some of those chemical heating packs by his ears and neck. As ready as he'd ever be, Spider-Man set out to stop the baddies from ruining a bunch of people's Christmases and Hanukkahs and whatever other holidays that happened in late December.

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"Oh Doc Ock is Broke, oh what a stroke! That's why he robbed a bank!" The poorly sang parody of Jingle Bells announced Spider-man's arrival since he had been invisible in the whipping snow. "Electro stripped a lab and Hobgoblin followed suite! Oh Scorpion, wouldn't you know he got stuck in the snow. Rhino slipped on a patch of ice and Mysterio got blown away!"

Peter knew he shouldn't taunt them but it took his mind off spending Christmas without MJ. Besides, Scorpion really was waist deep in a snow drift and Rhino was doing a great impression of a stereotypical cartoon character just learning how to ice skate while Beck tried to keep the wind from using his Mysterio cape as a sail.

"One of you find the wallcrawler and end him" Spidey couldn't see who had spoken, but he would know Ol' Otto Octavius's voice anywhere.

As he moved to a better vantage point, one shielded from the biting wind, Spider-man broke out into song once again. "Ock and the Six are gettin' nothin' for Christmas! Stealing from Hammer Tech is just sad. Ock and the Six are gettin' nothin' for Christmas! Cause they ain't been nothin' but bad!" this attracted Scorpion to his new location.

As they traded blows, a new song emerged. "Scorpion the green tailed villain, couldn't make any friends! That was why he followed Doc Ock into the Sinister Six!" As he knocked the fellow arachnid into the sewer drain that, Peter noted, wasn't supposed to be open.

"Imbecile, I see that I have to do everything myself." Ock's voice came from overhead.

Spidey finally got a visual on the twisted genius as he climbed down from the rooftop, which lead to, "Up on the highrise octopus claws! You clearly ain't Santa Claus!" and when he noticed that the snow was sticking to the mechanical limbs he changed tunes. "Ocky the the snow limbed! The naughty, stealy, bum! He tried to rob some labs and bank or two, but thaaat's when Spiiiidey steeeepped iiiin!"

He nearly had Doc Ock pinned down when Rhino triggered his spider sense. He didn't have time to get out of the way, but he did turn it into a glancing blow that still felt like it had done a good bit of damage to his left side ribs. If a glancing blow felt like this, he was glad he missed the full-on hit. Trying to take deep breaths hurt, so he gave up his songs for now.

Getting his breath back, Spidey riled up his adversary. "Is this payback for calling you a Glorified Snow plow during our last fight?"

"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME!?" Rhino roared as he charged again.

"I guess you forgot about that after Louie the Lightning Bug over there hit you with enough juice to power the Rockefeller Christmas Tree." after some well placed webs and too much use of his damaged torso, Spider-man flung Rhino at Electro as he sang "Watch out Rhino buddy listen to me, you gotta play it safe around electricity!" he smiled knowing the heavy hitter was down for the count.

Add in Doc Ock, who was still trapped in the webs since his metal limbs had locked up from the ice, which he was totally pinning with even more, stronger web in case he was faking arm issues. And if Scorpion hadn't pulled himself out of the sewer yet, he probably won't. So, the Sinister Six were now the Terrible Trio.

He barely had time to jump onto the wall of the bank before Hobgoblin's pumpkin bomb went off. "I think you missed the memo Hobbie, Pumpkin spice season ended at Thanksgiving, Mint is the flavor of this holiday."

Spidey managed to knock Hobgoblin off his glider and onto the Hammer Tech Lab's wall, but got pushed into the open sewer by the glider as it crashed to the ground. Soaked in ice cold sewage was the least of his problems when his spider sense warned him of attack. He only just managed to get out of the sludge just as Electro zapped the liquid he had be dropped in.

Looking over in the poorly lit sewer tunnel, Spider-man spotted Scorpion out cold on the the raised edge of the sewer channel with one foot still in the waste water. Even from a distance in the low light, Peter could see that he was still breathing, so the jolt was either weak (unlikely) or his suit was insulated (Most likely).

Looking up at Electro hovering over the open drain Spidey called out, "Hey Dillion, are you Max, that cute little reindeer dog, cause Scorpion here is clearly the Grinch. By the way, the Whoes want their cash back!" as he shot one of his conducting webs at the skinny living christmas tree and dropped the other end into the sewage. As he expected, this ripped all the charge from Electro as the sludge grounded him. He grabbed Dillion's limp body as it fell into the sewer with them and webbed him up beside Scorpion.

When he climbed out of the manhole, Spider-Man saw Mysterio and a gliderless Jason Macendale waiting for him. It was all Peter could do not to shiver violently as the blizzard's winds hit his sewage soaked suit. There was a voice in his head that sounded heartbreakingly like MJ telling him to finish quickly before he got frostbite.

Not one to ignore her advice, Pete shot of a big glob of webbing to separate the pair. "Ghost of Christmas Future and Tiny Tim," He scurried up the icy alley wall when the two leapt to the side like it was a grenade. "No wait, it was the Ghost of Past that was all glowy." His head was getting fuzzy, which wasn't a good thing right now.

When he saw the two pumpkin bombs in Macendale's hands, he got an idea. "A Gift for me! Hobbie! You shouldn't have!" He ripped both Halloween explosives from the yellow hands with webs and flug one of them at Beck, calling out, "Hey Snowglobe! Catch!" Over the wind as he smashed the other one at the purple clad feet of Hobgoblin.

The blast knocked the fishbowl right off Mysterio's blonde head and sent him right into a wall as the other jack-o'lantern sent Macendale several feet in the air. Not wasting a moment, Peter webbed them both. Mysterio to the side of the building and Hobgoblin in a web net hanging from the traffic light over head.

Spidey fished Electro and Scorpion from the sewers added more webs to them and the rest of Six Scrooges. When he collected the damaged glider to add to the pile, he waved it at Macendale with a "Hey Hobbie, I found your sleigh!" before calling the police to come lock them up.

Not one to give up the chance to give one last quip, Pete spoke up just as sirens became audible over the wind. "In the words of Macaulay Culkin, "Merry Christmas you filthy animals"" With that, he swung home stiffly, nearly too cold to do it properly.

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When he got home, it all really hit him. His ribs were aching furiously from all the swinging and he was all but numb. He had to wait until the heat of the apartment thawed his fingers before he could even lock the window. His tepid shower felt like a scalding waterfall, but it got him clean and warmer.

After changing into some thick clothes, he moved to the kitchen with a limp to heat up a can for some hot soup before starting up his work assignment on his computer. When the cold sweats started, he assumed he had a fever, and he was correct. When he started shivering, he figured it was just the fever and he would sleep it off as soon as he finished the New Year prediction assignment, this time he was wrong.

The heat was out, not just for him, but the entire building. A lot of older apartments in New York suffered this as the blizzard raged and dropped temperatures into the single digits. Out of all of those, Peter was the only tenant who didn't seek a new heat source until the issue was fixed.

He finished the piece around 5am, got in bed under every blanket he owned, and passed out. And there he stayed, dead to the world, until his work alarm goes off roughly 30 hours after he passed out. It took him a few minutes to realize it was Monday.

The next half hour consisted of Peter clumsily getting dressed with damage ribs and trouble breathing, chugging a few cans of chicken noodle soup that he didn't bother heating, and lightly beating up his computer until it sent his pieces to the printer. After that, he grabbed his hat and coat before literally running through the snowy city to get the article in on time. Which he managed just on time. Just.

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When the elevator doors opened just before 8am, Betty was surprised. One, besides her and Mr Jameson, no one came in before 8:30. Two, it was Pete and he looked horrible.

She couldn't help but notice how sick he looked. Peter was as pale as the snow outside, looked like a walking wax figure, and breathing harshly. On top of that, he was holding his left side with his arm and limping.

"Parker." Betty had never heard her boss whisper, let alone with clear worry in that she blamed him. Peter looked like death warmed over and sounded worse. What could have possibly happened to him since he had left the office on Friday with that cocky salute?

"It's first thing. Here report. Power. New year." Pete wasn't making sense as he dropped the papers and floppy disk he had been carrying down on the desk. His voice had a stuffed up nose quality to it and a low crackling tone.

She was halfway around her desk, with the spare inhaler Mrs Mary Jane Watson-Parker had entrusted her with before her death in her hand, when it happened. Pete bent over with horrible gurgling, wet coughs and started swaying. Mr Jameson moved quicker than she had ever seen him, but even he was too late to keep the poor kid from falling. She got to him at the same time as her boss. While she got him into a reclined position and gave him a huff from the inhaler, JJ checked Pete's pulse.

"Keep him comfortable. I'll get the car. He needs a hospital." She looked up sharply at that. If J. Jonah Jameson was willing to drive an employee to the hospital, something was very wrong. More than a collapsing after a bad coughing fit.

It wasn't until Mr Jameson was back and had Pete in a fireman's carry that she noticed the blue of the poor guys fingernails. Touching his hands, she found them ice cold, but Peter wasn't shivering. That was when she fully understood why her stingy boss was driving Peter Parker to the hospital. Hypothermia.

She had been hoping that it was just that the cold had triggered his asthma, maybe a common cold, and Pete had tripped on his way in, causing the limp. This was so much worse in several ways. She knew there was no way the Parkers could afford hospital bills so soon after the funeral had wiped out their savings, even with the Christmas bonus, which wasn't that much in the first place.

The drive to the hospital seemed to pass in a flash as she tried to ease Peter's breathing, while also trying to get the thick, snow dampened coat off of him so the cars heat could warm him up. She was fairly sure that her religiously law abiding boss broke several road laws, but if it meant Pete getting treatment quicker, she would never say a word about it. She was just trying not to panic over the whole thing.

She jumped when Mr Jameson blared the horn at the door to the Emergency room and again when the door beside her was opened. Before she could collect herself, the nursing staff had Pete on a gurney and were giving him oxygen. By the time she got into the hospital, they were putting a tube down her friend's throat.

She felt like she was on the verge of hyperventilating when a steady hand came down on her shoulder. Looking over at the hands owner, she saw something she near thought she would see. J. Jonah Jameson, terror of the news world, with tears in his eyes.

"You two brought him in just in time." Betty felt the hand on her shoulder tighten as her breath hitched. The man, doctor, in front of them blocked their view as the staff began cutting away Pete's clothes.

"What is wrong with the kid? He came into my office and passed out coughing." He still sounded like the gruff military man who didn't care about anything, but his face was pale and she could feel a slight tremor through the contact they shared.

"He is hypothermic, but that is all I am allowed to discuss without permission from his family. We looked through his clothes and found his ID, so we have access to some of his medical records and called his primary care physician, but any additional information would be helpful." Betty was at a loss for words, but nodded and handed over the inhaler she had been holding onto as if her life depended on it.

As soon as the doctor turned from them, a curtain was placed between them and Peter, and hospital security ushered them to the waiting room. There, they were handed paperwork asking about what they knew. Other than next of kin and that Peter had asthma, she didn't have anything else to write. Looking over, she saw that her boss knew a lot more about her friend than she did.

As much as she wanted to read what Mr Jameson was writing, she couldn't bring herself to. Instead, she brought her knees to her chest, curling in on herself as much as she could in the hospital seat. She stayed like that until she felt her boss leap to his feet.

Looking up, she saw a doctor walking towards them. Betty had seen the woman before, with the late Mrs Parker almost a year before. Clambering to her feet, the secretary realized what that meant. This woman was Pete's primary care physician.

"Hello Mr Jameson, Ms Brant, I'm Dr Mariah Crawford. Peter speaks highly of you." The blatant lie made Betty feel better than she had since seeing her friend limp out of that elevator.

"Dr Crawford. How is the kid?" Betty hugged herself upon hearing so much worry in her boss's usually uncaring voice.

"Stable for now. He isn't out of the woods, though." Those words both comforted and unnerved her. Just how bad off was he? Had they gotten him warmed up yet? Was there even more stuff wrong with him?

Thankfully, she didn't have to ask those questions to get them answered. "We got his core temperature up a bit, but now he is still hypothermic and we can't risk warming him up too quickly due to his weakened lungs. It appears he was mugged some time over the past few days, he has bruises and damaged ribs that point to multiple assailants, that combined with his hypothermia has lead to double pneumonia." In a way, Betty wished she never knew, now that she heard.

"Have you contacted his aunt?" Betty could picture the poor woman, who had been like a mother to Peter most of his life, if she knew. May Parker had been through a lot ,and this could not be easy on her.

"According to the answering machine at her home, she is out of the country for the holiday with the late Mrs Parker's aunt. Given that those women are the only listed family for Mr Parker, we have had to look into his list of individuals he has given power of attorney to. Of those listed, only one in the state that has the power to make medical decisions for him right now." Given the look on Dr Crawford's face, Betty saw where this was going. " He gave springing power of attorney to you, Mr Jameson, if he was ever injured or incapacitated while working for the Daily Bugle."

Yep, she was right.

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When Robbie arrived at 9am, instead of 8:30, he had expected to be fired and rehired a few times before JJ calmed down. Instead, he found only other confused office staff and editors. Even Betty Brant was missing, which meant she was likely wherever Mr Jameson was.

By 10, he was no longer confused, but concerned. That, and only that, was why he began searching their desks, starting with hers. The half drinken cup of coffee and purse meant she had come in that morning. In the Chief's office, there was a full mug of coffee, the computer was still logged in, and there was new papers on the desk that hadn't been there on Sunday when he swung by to grab his scarf from his desk. Pete's SI Power plan analysis and New Year's predictions article.

The editor-in-chief went in search of his former mentee, but found no sign Peter had been to his desk since Friday. No glowing computer screen, no coffee, not even a partially eaten granola bar. Either the kid had dropped off the assignments and gone home, or someone else brought Peter's stuff in for him. Neither was something he had been willing to do since MJ was killed. Before, if she asked, he would run off in a heartbeat, now, Pete had become a complete workaholic. The only other option was that he was with JJ and Betty. The more Robbie thought about it, the more likely he found that third choice.

A few cubicles down, a phone started ringing. Not the main phone on Betty's desk, but an individual office phone. Curiosity piqued, he followed the sound to editors corner when it stopped. Realizing how silly he was being, Robbie moved to his own office, which was right there, and pretended to have not been following the noise. He settled down, pretending to edit when his phone rang, startling him so badly that he fell out of his chair.

He clambered to his knees and grabbed the handset, "Joseph Robertson, Daily Bugle."

"Thank goodness, Robbie! I need you to get someone to cover the phones for me!" Robbie ripped the receiver from his ear and held it at arm's length as Betty's loud, frantic words shattered the quiet atmosphere. "We left in a hurry, so I forgot to get a temp. We are headed to Pete's so- **Tell him to get the evening addition out! All of the articles are on my desk! And get rid of that cup of coffee before we get flies!** _I'll tell him, just go get the car. _Anyway, you heard the boss, so I also need you to get one of the tech guys to cover for Pete, posting articles online and all that, oh, and dump my coffee too and-" The editor-in-chief winced at the car horn that cut her off. "That's Mr Jameson, gotta go! Call you this afternoon! Thanks!"

Robbie blinked in confusion as the dial tone beeped at him. He had a bunch of questions, but he'd get answers that afternoon. He just hoped, for Pete's sake, that his apartment didn't look like a filthy bachelor's pad when Jameson got there.

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According to the note on the door, the furnace for the building had gone out early Saturday, so now she stood timidly in the doorway of the icy cold apartment where Peter spent his time away from work and school. Jameson had folded and pocketed the note after unlocking the door. She was now getting her first look at her friend's home.

Betty wasn't sure what she was expecting, but this wasn't it. She has assumed the place would be a mess, but the over all, it was pretty clean. There were a few empty cans of soup by the sink and a dirty saucepan in the kitchen area, Pete's desk had piles of textbooks and notes on either side of the outdated computer and printer, then the couch was held a mountain of blankets and a rumpled pillow. Otherwise the room was spotless. If the impressed, raised eyebrows on her boss's face was any indication, she wasn't the only one who had imagined the place differently.

She started folding the blankets as Mr Jameson went to collect some clothes and toiletries. She saw the man open the door to Pete's bedroom, where he stood staring into the room with a pitying look, before leaving it alone. He moved to the other door, which turned out to be a darkroom, which he backed away from almost sheepishly, and turned to the doors on the other side of the apartment. Wondering what had put that look of her boss's face, she went over and looked in herself.

Her heart broke at the sight. It looked like Mary Jane had left that morning. The bed was sloppily made and clothes were strewn over it in a way only a woman could, the closet had shoes falling out of it, and the vanity was still covered in makeup and hair products.

She was about to step in when Mr Jameson bellowed "BRANT!", causing her to jump in surprise and run over to him where he was standing in front of a lit room. "Get Parker some clothes" he added massaging the bridge of his nose. When she saw what was in there, she had to stifle a chuckle. Now that was what she had been expecting.

It was the bathroom and it was a complete wreck. There were piles of laundry along the walls, a couple garbage bags were under the sink, and there was a superhero periodic table shower curtain lined with hangers covered in even more clothes. It was just so Peter, but given the smell of the room, she would rather buy him new clothes than take any of the ones in the room to the hospital. If she did it just right, she could pass it off as a Christmas present.

But first, she was going to get rid of the bags of garbage, which smelled like a backed up toilet, and the soup cans before they attracted roaches. It was the least she could do for Pete. After all, that's what are friends for.

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Robbie was closing things down and finalizing the morning edition when Betty stumbled out out of the elevator and collapsed into her desk chair with a groan. Noting the shadows under her eyes, he got her a fresh cup of breakroom coffee and joined her. She had promised to call, but never did, so he was going to use caffeine to make her spill why J. Jonah Jameson, workaholic extreme, wasn't seen in the office all day and made a stop at the apartment of Peter Parker, a fellow workaholic who had also been unusually absent.

"Long day?" It was a leading question, but that was his intention.

Without even opening her eyes, the secretary groaned. "You don't even know the half of it. I don't even know that much! This is too much drama, even for this place." That was when her eyes flew open and she locked them on the steaming mug his hand. "Coffee!" Figuring it would be in his best interest to let her have it before he began his interrogation, he handed it over. His eyebrows raised as she downed the whole thing in a few chugs. "Man did I need that! Peter's place was freezing, so was the thrift store and the hospital. And don't even get me started on the dumpster alley!" Her earlier exclamations only stirred up more questions.

"Hospital? Why were you there?" He watched as Betty's face went from blissful, warm mug pressed to her cheek with both hands to haunted as she shakily put the cup down on her desk. That alone was terrifying, but then she brought her knees to her chest and hugged them. He was really worried now.

"Pete showed up just before 8 this morning, looking like he had been hit by a bus, turned in his assignments, and collapsed coughing up a lung. He was ice cold and his nails were blue. They told us he had been mugged, likely on Friday, then went home where the heat went out during the night when the blizzard was in full force, and got pneumonia and hypothermia. They told Mr Jameson more, but that was only part of it." She paused to grab some tissues from a drawer of her desk, blew her nose, and continued.

"He sleeps in the living room, Robbie. His bed was still covered in the clothes MJ threw there the day she died. He hadn't touched it. Then his bathroom was a biohazard, all his clothes were in there, smelling like the garbage that had been sitting there for Thor knows how long. I had to run to the thrift store to get him some clothes that didn't reek of sewage. Then the Boss dropped me off and went back to the hospital, because Peter's and MJ's aunts are off on a cruise for Christmas if the receipt I found was real, so the poor guy doesn't have anyone to stay with him." By the end of her recap, there were tears pouring down her face and Robbie was having to blink his back.

He wordlessly got up and refilled her cup and settled back down before handing it to her.

"You OK, Brant?" She nodded into her knees and dabbing her eyes. "Are you good to get home by yourself?" She took a long sip before nodding.

"If you think I am taking it badly, you should have seen Jameson. Pete had a document giving him medical power of attorney…" The gasp that ripped itself out of his mouth startled him. It was no secret JJ had a soft spot for Pete and openly adored Mary Jane and grew close with them over the past several years and his bond with Peter only strengthened after MJ died. This was probably bringing up all sorts of dark memories up from when the Chief's wife was killed, losing his son to the werewolf he had been turned into, and being alone for the holidays.

"Why don't we finish up here, I'll drop you off by the subway station, and head over to the hospital? That work for you?" The editor felt better when Betty gave him a small smile.

She lowered her feet back to the floor and put the mostly empty mug back on the desk. "Yeah." He helped her to her feet and they set to work.

Jameson never approved the Tuesday morning articles, but Robertson had covered for him before, so he knew what the Chief would have let slide and what he wouldn't, so it shouldn't cause any issues. They put everyone's new assignments that JJ had sorted through on their desks so they'd have them in the morning and packed those he hadn't so he would have something to do while sitting with Pete. And lastly, they poured the remainder of the coffee in the breakroom into a thermos for their penny pinching boss.

Robbie felt his pulse pick up the pace as they turned out the lights. He wasn't ready to see Pete in a hospital bed or to see how raw the whole situation had made Jonah. The only thing standing as a distraction right now was traffic and dropping his colleague off at the station entrance. After that he was going to have to face the problem of the widowers at the hospital.

It seemed like he no sooner got in his car than he was where Betty needed to get out, then he was in the hospital parking lot. He took a deep breath and gathered the stuff he was taking in. The nurses were more than happy to take him to take him to Pete's room, saying the kid's dad could use a break, which hit Robbie harder than he ever would have thought. It was a bit too close for comfort.

Peter lost his dad when he was a little kid and his uncle as a teen. Heck, every time Pete got a father figure, he lost them in one way or another, like Doc Conners. But Peter hadn't realized just how close he was to his boss.

Jonah wasn't any better. He lost a lot of young men and women in the military, boys and girls he thought of as his. He lost John to outer space and then to Man-Wolf, the werewolf he had become. Then he lost MJ, just like Pete did. Now, he had almost lost Peter too, the kid who had come to him in high school with some of the first ever pictures of Spider-Man.

He had been shocked, at first, that Jonah had given the kid more than a few bucks. As time went on, the Chief paid more for those pictures than any others used in the Bugle, especially when Pete really needed the money. Though Jameson would never admit it, it was obvious to Robbie that he had seen a bit of himself in the scrawny kid with a camera and big dreams.

He pushed those thoughts aside as he carefully opened the door to Peter's hospital room as quietly as he could. As he expected, John Jonah Jameson Jr. was staring stoically, mouth covered by trembling hand, at the bed holding Pete. The kid was attached to a bunch of machines that were each making a different sound. The hisses and beeps only seemed to darken the atmosphere in the room.

"Hey Chief. I brought coffee." The look in Jonah's eyes when they locked eyes made Robbie's heart throb with empathetic sadness.

"Good. The stuff here is a waste of hard earned money." While his words were crass, it was clearly a deflection.

Evading emotions was his specialty, so Robbie would play along for now. "What did his Parker luck get him into this time?"

"The kid got himself held up, not that he had anything of value except that camera of his. That left him with bruised ribs and a bum leg. He went home to a cold apartment where he barely ate. His tests say he has the flu, pneumonia, a middle ear infection, infected sinuses. His body temperature was so low, they couldn't understand how he had been able to wake up, let alone get all the way to the Bugle." Damn, this was worse than he had thought.

Not wanting to add to the depressing atmosphere, he decided to lighten the mood. "Pete is too stubborn to let that stop him from doing something he set his mind on."

"That wasn't it. He needed to have something to do. Did Brant tell you about the shrine?" That question threw Robbie for a bit of a loop.

Why was that important? "The bedroom?"

"He locked it up and left it as a place where she still lives, in his memory at least. Thing is, when I opened the door, it was warm in there. If he had slept in his own damn bed, the heat from the neighbor's place would have kept him warm enough that this wouldn't have happened." Oh man, Robbie saw where this was heading.

"Jonah…" His friend didn't let him continue.

"If anyone had taken the time to talk him through his grief, he would have packed her stuff up and been in his own bed, rather than a couch in a drafty living room!" The emotional sigh that followed the explosion brought tears to the editor's eyes. "Poor kid… He just wants to keep a part of her with him. I did too, back when… Yeah. But he needs to suck it up and move on."

"You didn't know before, but you do now. We will all help, but you understand better than we do." Robbie actively ignored the wetness of the publisher's bloodshot gaze. "When we are done discussing this, go home and get some rest. I'll stay with him. The morning articles are already approved, but you need to look through these for the next few days."

They would both deny the conversation had happened, but they understood how things worked. They had the Daily Bugle and Peter to tend to and they were going to have to work together to keep both from falling apart. They just needed to make a plan.

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It was a light in his eyes that woke him up. This meant several things. One, he wasn't on the couch in his apartment, since the sun couldn't hit there. Two, he wasn't at his desk or the subway for the same reason. Three, it was too warm and yellow-white to be artificial, or at least the usual kind of indoor lighting. Four, he had no idea where he was.

His ears started working as his consciousness started flooding back. There was a lot of beeping and whirring noises that almost blocked out the sound of people moving and the sounds of the city. It took a bit, but he realized that one of the beeping patterns matched his heartbeat and the hissing matched the rise of his chest.

That was when he realized that he wasn't the one controlling his breathing. As terrifying as that was, it was something he used to be overly familiar with. It hadn't happened in years, but he knew the feeling of being on a ventilator all too well from his childhood of asthma and illness.

So he was in the hospital, with a tube down his throat, and a machine announcing his heart rate to anyone in hearing range. He couldn't remember how he got there or which of his identities it had happened under. Was he with friendlies or hostiles? He needed to know, but he didn't even have the strength to open his eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr Parker." He knew that voice! Dr. Crawford! "When you asked me to be your attending physician, I was expecting one of your superhero pals would call me because you got hurt in a fight or you were mutating again, not a hospital calling because you collapsed at work and your boss brought you in. I should have known that you would take on six villains and not get your injuries treated."

So he had not been in his uniform when it happened, that was good. Passing out in front of JJ was not. He probably only brought him in to avoid a lawsuit.

"Let's see if you can breath on your own now. I am going to turn off the ventilator and I want you to take as deep of a breath as you can." Pete hated this part, but waited until the hissing noise stopped and the need for air kicked in before expanding his chest as much as he could in his weakened state.

"Pretty good for someone with antibiotic resistant pneumonia in both lungs. Not that anyone but me knows that. Do you know how hard it is to protect your secret in a public hospital when you give power of medical attorney to a man who distrusts doctors?"

Oh man. He had forgotten about that. May had forced him to do it back when he first started that job. He hadn't known it was still binding.

"Alright, I am going to remove the tube." He relaxed as much as he could and didn't try to breath as the plastic piping was slowly pulled out and coughed sharply once it was free. "Good job. Looks like you remember the protocol. Up you go. Give me a few more good coughs."

His chest and ribs hated him, but he knew it was required if he didn't want to have that tube put back in. He coughed up some stuff and actually managed to get his eyes open eyes as a breathing mask was placed over his mouth. As she lowered him and the head of the bed back down, he saw Jameson's favorite coffee mug on the side table, or one that looked a lot like it.

"I have told your boss and coworkers that you appeared to have been mugged, to explain your injuries. Whatever you got into infected your sinuses and ears. Also, when I got here, your core temperature was 70°F. You only just warm enough not to be technically hypothermic after three days of warm saline drips, heat packs, and an electric blanket, before you got a fever. It is gone now and your body temperature has dropped to just above hypothermic, again." Wow, he hadn't thought he had been that bad off.

"Now that you are awake, we can try working on getting some food in you. On top of everything, Peter, you were malnourished. I have had you on a high calorie blend through a feeding tube, but you have still been losing weight. Hopefully, once you are more on the mend you can start building your weight back up. It is clear this has been an ongoing thing. I can only do so much if you refuse to take care of yourself."

He this was nothing new. He forgot to eat if no one reminded him. Aunt May usually called him and nagged him into eating, but with school and work, she had been calling less and he often missed her calls. He hadn't had this issue while- no, he wasn't going to lay blame there.

"MJ would ashamed that you let this happen because she wasn't there to babysit you, Pete." He jerked back from the voice. He didn't know when Betty had come in, but she was now at his bedside.

"Miss Brant, I have to ask you not to upset my patient right now. He needs rest, not an emotional breakdown. Peter, sleep. We will deal with this when you are stronger." He wasn't sure if she dosed him with something, but he was out like a light within moments.

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Betty was mad. Not at Mr Jameson, not at Pete, not even MJ or her murderer. She was mad at herself.

She saw Peter roughly five days a week and had been for the past several years with few exceptions. She knew the kid and his habits. She had been right there all this time and done nothing. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but hearing that her friend had been starving himself, knowingly or not, for Thor knows how long snapped something inside her.

She knew bringing up MJ had been a horrible thing to do, but she had and saw the flinch she had caused Pete, even if he hadn't realized he had done it. She deserved the harshness of his doctor. She had not only ignored his pain, but actively dug it up and threw it in his face. Talk about kicking a man when he's down.

"He is hurting in so many ways, but you can help him." Betty hadn't noticed that Pete's doctor had followed her out into the hall.

"I let him down. I should have known." She saw a small smile creep onto Dr. Crawford's face.

"He has secrets and he is good at keeping you from seeing what he doesn't want you to." All Betty could think about was the untouched bedroom.

"Yeah." She didn't get to say anymore as her boss came into sight, down the hall.

"Mr. Jameson." Ah, formalities, fun.

"Dr. Crawford. Brant." Of course he only used her last name, well two can play that game.

"Chief." If the look in her boss's eye was any indication, she was really pushing it right now.

"Head back and help Robertson." Oh boy, she had ticked him off.

"Just a moment, please. Since you both are here, I can say this once instead of multiple times." Luck for Dr. Crawford, glares weren't deadly.

"And what is that?" Great, he was grinding his teeth, this wasn't good.

"As you know, May Parker and Anna Watson will be out of contact until after the New Year. Since most of Mr. Parker's friends are fellow employees of the Daily Bugle, I can release him to one of you." Betty felt her eyebrows rise at that.

"Already? The kid hasn't even woken up yet and is on a ventilator and you are pawning him off on one of us? What kind of qwack are you?" She wasn't sure if he was defensive because he cared or if he was just that hostile, but he was off base.

"Um, Boss," She tried to sound confidant, but her voice trembled slightly as she interjected. "He woke up earlier, but not for long. He is off the machine too."

"WHAT!?" She wasn't sure if it was anger at not having been told or her talking back that laced his bellow, but either way, he was loud.

"Lower your voice. This is a hospital, not your office." Betty could almost feel the rise in Jameson's blood pressure from that admonishment. "Anyway, Miss Brant is correct. Mr. Parker regained consciousness not long ago and responded well to instructions. He is currently on oxygen, but as the infections clear up, he will be weaned off and released."

"And one of us will be on the hook for anything that happens after that. Nice way to cover your-" Betty wasn't sure if she was thankful Dr. Crawford interrupted Mr Jameson or worried for her because of it.

"As he lives alone, I cannot allow him to go home without supervision, but I can release him to a friend. It can be at his home or theirs, but he needs to be reminded to eat and take his medications. Under normal circumstances, he should be home with family, resting after a grueling semester of upper level classes, but instead he pushed to hard at the wrong time and got sick, alone." Oddly enough, that seemed to relax the high strung man a bit.

"If no one can stay with him, I can pull some strings to allow him to stay here until his relatives return." Impressively, the woman seemed to have locked eyes with the former lieutenant challengingly. "I know this is a lot to think about and nothing needs decided right away, but the sooner I know, the sooner I can sort out the paperwork."

Oh. Mariah Crawford was a clever and fearless woman. She was giving JJ a reason and an excuse for taking in Pete. She was good and Betty couldn't help but think about the whole thing on her way back to the Bugle.

Robbie was going to love this.

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Peter wasn't sure how to feel about what was going on. He had woken up the first time five days ago, slept most of the next three, and he had been working hard on his breathing and physical therapy for the past two days, but then Mariah had announced that he was going to be released. To the care of John Jonah Jameson Jr, the scourge of the media world and publisher of the Daily Bugle. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a terrible thing.

Until he could breathe properly again and got his strength back, he wouldn't be patrolling as Spidey, but he would also have to try to be as human-like as possible. No 5,000 calorie meals, no pacing on the ceiling, none of it. On the other hand, he had an excuse for sleeping in, could get a ride to work in a heated vehicle, and wouldn't be alone for Christmas. He would also have to clean up the bedroom so there was somewhere for Jameson to sleep. It had its pros and cons.

So here he was, sitting in a wheelchair, just inside the hospital's bay doors, his crutches across his lap, waiting for the man who hated him as Spider-Man and tolerated as Peter Parker. Robbie had gone by the apartment and brought him some clean clothes, which he must have washed at his place since they didn't smell like his detergent, so he was dressed in no less than four layers under the new coat Betty had given him as an early Christmas present. Despite being bundled up and in the heated building, he was still shivering.

He knew it was because he had next to no fat left on his body and his healing factor was using up all the calories he had been able to take in, leaving nothing to keep him warm. He just couldn't see how it was going to get better with Jameson watching his every move. How much do normal people his age eat anyway? 2,000 calories? He would starve if that was all he could get a day.

He was pulled out of his train of thought by an orderly pushing his chair towards the door. He caught a glimpse of JJ's car right before the doors opened and the winter winds hit him. His teeth started chattering within a second and they only got worse in the two minutes it took to get in, situated, leg up on the seat in a way the nurse and orderly approved of, and the doors closed.

Pete thought he saw concern on his boss's face in the corner of his eye, but when he looked, all there was was a scowl. "You better not get slush all over my upholstery, Parker."

Oddly enough, those words made him feel better than any he had heard in days. It was familiar, normal even. It was nice and relaxing.

Too much so, because not but a few minutes later, he was fast asleep, lulled by the vibrations of the moving vehicle and the warm air. He didn't wake up until the engine turned off, so he was confused when he saw he was in a parking deck, not in a spot off the street where everyone who had a car and lived in the building parked. That was when it hit him.

He wasn't going to be staying at his apartment. He was going to be spending the next week or so in his penny pinching publisher's home. Peter Parker: nominee for the Dumbest Genius Award.

Out of one frying pan and into another. He no longer had to worry about going through MJ's stuff and locking away all that he had left of her, but now he was entirely beholden to the man who once gave Pete a day old egg salad sandwich so he didn't have to pay for an employee's lunch and then forced him to work while eating the stale sour thing. There was no way to win.

"Face it, Pete, you are probably going to starve." He thought to himself and mentally sighed, it was going to be a long week.

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Today was the day. Christmas eve eve. December 23rd. All the articles for every issue for the next four days had been approved and it had all been sent down to the printers. For the next few days, all Robbie was doing was celebrating Christmas with his family and making sure Jonah and Peter didn't accidentally kill each other.

Usually, unless the holiday was on a Saturday, the Chief worked until close on Christmas eve, took Christmas morning off, worked from noon until dinnertime, went home, and was back in the office at 8am on the 26th. This year, he wasn't even planning on coming in until the 27th, and that was only for a few hours unless Pete was up for coming in. Thing was, Pete didn't know that. As far as the kid knew, Jonah took off the holidays like everyone else.

Betty had told him that morning that the kid was being released, but that no one had told him he was staying at Jameson's place instead of his. That meant Peter thought he was intruding on his boss's holiday, when in reality, he was being a good reason for the man to slow down and relax for a change.

It was a good thing for both of them, healthwise, and probably mentally as well. Jonah had dangerously high blood pressure and often skipped meals. But he wouldn't if he had Pete there. The kid wouldn't eat if he thought it was only for him, so Jonah would have to eat too. Hopefully he didn't try pulling what he had a few months ago.

Back in the spring, the Chief's doctor changed his medication and put him on a new diet. His lunches were delivered to him every single day, but the new blood pressure drug caused nausea and loss of appetite, so he would stick it in the lunchroom or pawn it off on someone. More than once he saw Peter eating part of it, like the low sodium egg salad on rye, usually while hard at work. Thankfully the side effects wore off after a week or so, but Robbie still worried that it would happen again. That was why he was planning on stopping by everyday to make sure it didn't.

He could come by today to see how the kid was settling in and then find more excuses to come by. Since he had all of the laundry from Pete's bathroom at his house, washed and folded, he could take some of them and some of the apricot sweet potato cookies Martha always made for Jonah and that would cover Christmas eve. Christmas day, he could bring over a couple of gifts, it wouldn't tip off Peter, but it would the Chief. Then, more clothes and leftovers on the 26th and then he would see at least one of them at the Bugle the next day.

He worked on the details of his plan throughout the day and got Betty in on it. If She also showed up Christmas day, it was a lot less suspicious than just him, so they were going to act like they had already planned it before Pete ended up in the hospital, that way Jonah would suspect them less. She could also talk up Martha's cooking so that it was less surprising when he showed up with leftovers.

Plan established, he was feeling pretty good on his way over to Jameson's place that evening. That feeling evaporated when he barely knocked before Pete, not Jonah, opened the door. It was replaced with worry when the kid quickly covered his mouth with a clammy hand.

"Not so loud!" The whispered exclamation didn't help.

He followed the soft thud of Peter's crutches into the living room where John Jonah Jameson, the Man Who Never Rests, Tyrant of Bugle, was fast asleep in an armchair, softly snoring. Of all the things that had crossed his mind when the kid had shushed him, this wasn't even on the list. He even felt a little silly for his reaction, but given what happens in this city, he had a better chance of being right than finding his friend taking a nap.

He gestured towards the kitchen, which was just within earshot of the chair holding you-know-who, but he didn't want the kid to have to go too far. "Pete, what did you do to him?"

Peter hushed him again, glancing at Jameson, and whispered, "Don't blame me! He woke me up to eat lunch, then we were watching the weather and he fell asleep. He made decaf coffee for some reason and then drank it! What was I supposed to do?"

The editor rolled his eyes and continued with his usual volume. "Did you try waking him up?"

"Robbie, why on earth would I wake him up and have him yell or force me to do more exercises?" Pete started rubbing his chest, making his friend wonder just how often Jonah had made the kid do the breathing physio exercises.

Come to think of it, Peter was breathing a heck of a lot better today than he had yesterday. It was hard to believe how quickly he was getting over it all. He had taken six days to get back to normal body temperature and be able to keep it there, but as soon as that happened, he started improving by leaps and bounds. Now, eight days after he had to be rushed to the hospital he was walking around on crutches and arguing to let the sleeping lion lie.

"He seemed tired. Sure, he fell asleep, but it was more like he was tired of pretending not to be tired." That caused Robbie's eyebrow to rise.

"Like a toddler fighting a nap?" He was hopeful, but the shaken head doused that idea.

"Like a soldier who has fought long enough." Crap. What had Jonah been doing that his walls were falling like that?

"Oh?" He was curious how much Peter had figured out.

"It kind of reminded me of Frank Castle…" The kid looked really sad about that.

That was not what he had been expecting. How did Pete know the Punisher? And how was the Chief like that antihero? "Huh."

"So I let him sleep." It was clear Pete was changing the subject a bit, but the editor wasn't going to divert it back. "The alarm for dinner will go off at 6pm, if the schedule Mariah sent back with us is being followed, which everything else has been, so who am I to doubt it."

That brought a smile to his face as the kid shuffled on his crutches. "Gonna let him know you were awake the whole time?"

"No way! I'll curl back up on the couch and nap until then." Robbie found the photographer's frantic hand waving amusing.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll let myself out. See you tomorrow, Pete." With that, he left the kitchen and headed for the door.

"Good night, Robbie." Peter was whispering, but the sound carried to where he was standing at the entrance, door already open.

He smiled and replied at normal volume. "You too."

On his way home, it dawned on him that maybe the decaf had been Pete's but somehow the two switched coffees. Oh boy, he was going to rib Jonah about that in future. Even if he had to lie about the kid having been awake the whole time.

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Boy was Betty glad she called Robbie that night after they made their plan. If she hadn't, the whole thing would have been a travesty. Seriously, was she the only one who could think?

Peter was forgiven as he was a guest and didn't want to annoy the man who was letting him stay there and wrote his paychecks. JJ was a Scrooge, but that didn't excuse him. Robbie was the worst though. He had known and thought nothing of it.

None of them had said anything about a Christmas tree or lack thereof.

Pete had mentioned, on several occasions, that he loved sitting in the dark, staring at a lit tree. It was one of his favorite parts of his favorite holiday. But Mr Jameson didn't have one. In fact, he hadn't decorated at all. And Robbie hadn't even said a word about it.

That was why she was grabbing a discount tree from a tree stand near her boss's home on the morning of the 24th. She had already fished the Christmas decorations out of Pete's livingroom and his part of the storage area in the basement of his apartment and brought a few strands of lights, so the tree was all she needed. She didn't tell Robbie she was doing it and wasn't going to, just so he would be surprised. As for Mr Jameson, she would let Parker's reaction convince the Grinch to let her decorate.

It was heavy and awkward, but she felt it was the least she could do after her comment at the hospital the day he woke up. If she was sore, well that was what she deserved. All she wanted right now was to put a smile on her friend's face to make up for the flinch she had caused.

She must have been making a racket getting the tree and boxes down the hallway, because several people poked their heads out of their apartments to stare at her. Most just rolled their eyes and went back inside, while some just stood there and watched her use a 7 foot tree as a walking stick in one hand, oversized purse on her shoulder, and balance three boxes and a handful of bags in the other. Thankfully, two of the late comers were JJ and Peter.

While the publisher looked confused, the future scientist had a hopeful look on his face. "You two going to just stand there?"

She was surprised at how out of breath she sounded, but it seemed to kick Pete into gear. He hobbled out and took the bags from her and grinned as he headed back in. She watched her boss's eyes as he watched the kid and she saw the moment he decided to let this happen. He even took the boxes from her, which was more than she had expected and she caught a soft look thrown her way for a split second. She doubted anything would come of it, but it was nice to know he was capable of caring about anyone but himself and Peter.

All in all, it took her around two hours to get the tree set up while Pete decorated the coffee table and breakfast nook. Jameson brought out a few ornaments from Thor knew where, but that was the extent of his contribution other than criticizing her decorating ability. But in the end, she didn't care.

Her friend was happy, humming Christmas songs under his breath, and resting on the couch. She swore, the brighter Peter got, the more the Chief's worry lines lessened. She wasn't sure she had ever seen her friend choose to be that still or her boss that relaxed. It was a sight to behold. She almost regretted not inviting Robbie to join them, almost.

After that, she cleaned up the mess they had made and told Pete she would see him tomorrow. She gathered her coat, purse, now significantly lighter, and her hat and headed out. As she was about to shut the door behind her, Jameson called out, "You are a terrible interior designer, Brant, but since you are a secretary, I'll let it slide."

She couldn't help but smile all the way home after that. In all her years working for him, that was the closest thing to praise she had ever received from J. Jonah Jameson. Talk about a Christmas miracle.

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When the editor used his key to get into Jonah's apartment, he momentarily thought he was in the wrong place. When he had come by the previous evening, the place had looked normal. But now, it was full of things he never thought he'd see here again. There was a fully decorated tree by the window, garland and figurines on the coffee table, and he could smell the cinnamon and mace smell that always accompanied holiday potpourri.

Then there was Pete and Jonah both passed out snoring with empty hot chocolate mugs on the table in front of them. The kid still had a bit of a chesty rattle going, but it was no longer obvious like it had been. Smiling at the pair, he moved to the kitchen where he got another surprise.

Robbie wasn't sure which of the two had done it, but there was a pile of drying dishes, pots, pans, various appliances. It looked like every container and piece of cookware in the cabinets had been collected and cleaned, which really wasn't much given Jonah rarely cooked and he had gotten rid of most of the kitchenware after his wife died. What Robertson couldn't understand was why it had been done.

With questions in mind, the editor took a quick inventory only to find premade meals stacked in the fridge. Whoever had made the mess had made enough for the next four meals. There was dinner for that night, then tomorrow's breakfast, lunch, and dinner. On top were notes.

"Salt to taste, heat on stove, NOT microwave."

"Stir and eat. DO NOT HEAT!"

"Microwavable. 5 minutes on .3 power. Stir and heat on high for 1 minute."

"Heat at 350° in oven for 30 minutes. Allow to cool before eating."

Each container's note was in Peter's awkward scrawl. That meant he was the culprit. He had been the cook who cleaned up after himself. Not that either task would have been easy while on crutches. That is, unless Jonah helped him.

If this was all those two had to eat, he knew in less than 48 hours, they were really going to need those leftovers on the 26th. Given that Pete was 20lbs lighter than Dr Crawford wanted, eating was good. He hoped the kid didn't regain it too quickly. That was never healthy.

Not that it seemed all that likely. Peter seemed to be the type that could eat anything he wanted and not get fat. It also wasn't likely that JJ would let it happen anyway.

With his curiosity and worry sated, Robbie left without disturbing the widowers. This was good. The Chief wouldn't even know he had been there and it would be less suspicious when he showed up Christmas afternoon. Satisfied that the both of them were fine, the editor went home with a smile on his face.

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Peter was hungry. He was eating his share of the meals the two of them had prepared, but he was still hungry and there was nothing for him to snack on except those weird cookies Martha Robertson made for Mr Jameson and he knew they would be missed if he snuck a few. So now he was resigned to constant hunger pains and next to no energy. He hoped it wasn't too noticeable, but he was still losing weight.

He usually would have been fine with a 3000 calorie day if he wasn't Spider-Manning, but since he was healing, he needed at least twice that. He wasn't used to injuries taking this long to heal or illnesses lasting this long. He wanted to call Mariah, but he knew JJ would notice and ask questions, so he kept it to himself.

It was Christmas day. Robbie and Betty would be coming by at some point and Pete really hoped they were bringing food that he could supplement their dinner with. Last thing he wanted was to relapse or pass out from hypoglycemia. That would mean they would watch what he ate even closer.

Mr Jameson had been stern about PT, medication, and eating times, but was otherwise unusually kind. That with his day time naps was messing with Parker's mental picture of the man. He wasn't sure if this was the real, but usually hidden, version of JJ or if this was just a temporary and fake persona because he had a sick employee in his house under his care. Only time, and possibly Robbie, would tell.

? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ

Betty knew the Chief and Pete were expecting her to come by, but she hadn't said at what time and she doubted Robbie had told them he was coming at all. That was why she had brought food from one of the only places open on Christmas day.

She had Chinese food and a lot of it. She knew what Peter liked and got them all. She got the healthy option for her boss, and a couple more boxes for her and the editor. With that in hand, she kicked Mr Jameson's door since her hands were full.

It was Peter who answered the door and he looked so confused. When she wagged the bags of food, she saw the excitement and relief on his face. Either he was really hungry, which was likely seeing as he was bottomless pit, or he was being driven crazy by their boss, which was just as likely. Really, it was a bit of a toss up.

She came in and dropped off the food in the kitchen before she ever saw the Chief, which saved her a lecture on budgeting and what a waste of money take-out was. She then moved into the living room with her gifts just in time to see the man who never slowed down try to hide that he had been asleep. She had never seen him so human… crust on the corners of his mouth, slight puffiness around his eyes, and hair on the back of his head sticking out in the wrong direction from where his head had been pressed into the back of the chair. She wished for a camcorder or even a camera to save proof this had even happened.

She hid her face with the gifts because she couldn't stop smiling. She was placing them under the tree when there was a timid knock at the door. She knew it couldn't be Robbie, he wouldn't have knocked that softly, so who on earth was out in the hall?

Seeing as her Boss was still trying to hide his nap and Pete was likely stuffing his face, she took it upon herself to open the door. She was still wearing her coat and scarf, hair askew from the earlier wind. She was a sight when she opened the door to see none other than Sue and Johnny Storm on the Chief's doorstep.

Betty felt mortified as the immaculately groomed woman blinked at her, hand raised to knock again. The Human Torch was practically hiding behind his sister. What on earth was going on?

"Oh! I am so sorry! I was looking for the Jameson residence."

Behind her, the secretary heard Peter shuffling her way before he called out, "Sue? What are you doing here?"

"Pete! What on earth happened!? You told us you were coming probably coming over Christmas eve, but you never showed! I went to your apartment to see if you forgot only to hear from your neighbors that some people had been getting stuff out and that you were gone!"

"He panicked all day yesterday over it, so today we talked to your landlord who told us you were staying with your boss."

Brant watched the pair's faces as Peter came into view. Both gasped at the sight of him, but everything else about their reactions were different. The Invisible Woman looked worried and heart broken while her brother looked angry enough to flame on.

"Peter…"

"What happened to you?! Who did it?!"

"Whoa! Johnny! Calm down! It was my own fault! I was spreading myself too thin, not taking care of myself… Got sick, was in the middle of a mugging, the heat in my building went out… yeah…"

"He passed out in my office!"

Betty had been so focused on the two superheroes at the door that she hadn't heard Mr Jameson come up behind her. She turned to see him appraising the duo. She was about to say something when she heard Susan Storm tisk!

"Peter. You promised to take it easy after coaching Johnny and Bobby through General Chemistry. Also, instead of worrying us, you could have called us to let us know you were alright and that weren't coming over."

Gosh Pete… How many of these no nonsense women do you have in your life? Betty was a little surprised Peter tutored the Human Torch, but seeing as he was well known as the only person who could get a clear picture of Spider-Man, it isn't surprising he could get himself hired to help a superhuman pass a simple college course.

"Well… I mean… I… You know…"

Peter's babbling was cut off by the only woman in the Fantastic Four raising her hand.

"You forgot, we understand Peter. Feel better. Maybe we will see you at the Baxter New Years party."

"Next semester, you, me, Bobby. That apartment near campus. I'm not taking no for an answer."

After that, Betty got to see her hard working colleague hug, not one, but TWO superheroes! Glancing over, she saw that her boss was just as shocked as she was. Before she could work up the nerve to ask for an autograph, they were gone. She stood there gaping until Mr Jameson placed a hand on her shoulder, to get her attention, and gestures for them to move back into the apartment.

She had just gotten her coat off and the food laid out when Robbie showed up with a few packages and a confused look on his face.

"I think I might be going crazy… I could have sworn I just passed the Fantastic Four in the lobby…"

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The four of them ate the Chinese food Betty bought as they watched the old Captain America Christmas special, then they unwrapped presents, ate cookies with hot chocolate, then went their separate ways. Robbie took the secretary back to the nearest subway station before heading back to his own family for gift giving and dinner. He made sure to pack away several meals worth of food to take to Pete and Jonah.

The next day, when he went over to the apartment, it was opposite of what he had come across on the 23rd. It was Peter who was sleeping, fitfully, on the pull-out couch and Jameson was watching the kid worriedly. The editor quickly put the leftovers in the fridge and rejoined the Chief in the living room.

"Have you tried waking him?"

Instead of replying, Jameson rolled up his sleeves to show Robbie the growing bruises. Pete had done that in his sleep? Gosh…

"Calling his name didn't work either, I guess… Aww, Peter…"

"I called Dr Crawford. She thinks that as soon as May Parker and Anna Watson return from their trip that he needs to face Mary Jane's bedroom."

"That's going to be hard on him, you too. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, but it is better to lance the boil early and keep it from festering, like it did with me…"

Together, they watched over the young widower as he was wracked with memories or nightmares.

? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ? ﾸﾏ

For Peter Parker, it seemed like only a few weeks had passed since his Mary Jane, the clone, had died and only a few days since he had collapsed in the office of J. Jonah Jameson. But in reality, it had been 6 months since she had evaporated and weeks since he had fought the Six in the blizzard.

Now, here he was, in his apartment with friends, family, and fellow superheroes about to box up his late wife's stuff. He was already shaking and none of it was from his former injuries. He wanted to go back to his boss making him do breathing exercises and counting the calories in his meals, the Fantastic Four and the X-Men over feeding him and making him use the muscles that a normal person never uses, anywhere but in front of the door to the last remnant of her presence in the place.

Johnny, Bobby, and him had just signed the lease for a penthouse within sight of their campus, so he was having a pack up everything anyway, but it felt like giving up on finding the original MJ. Not that she would remember their lives together for the past few years… All and all, he just couldn't say goodbye to the woman he had loved and married.

But, this wasn't going to be goodbye either. He was going to put these things away so when he finally got her back, she would have everything she needed. All he had to do was find her and bring her home safely.

Besides, he needed someone who could keep the winter from being so miserable for a spider like Peter Parker.


End file.
